


The Fall

by starlily11



Series: Heart of Steel AU One Shots [2]
Category: Cinderella Phenomenon (Visual Novel)
Genre: Depression, Hildyr's A+ parenting NOT, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lucette needs a hug, you may need tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlily11/pseuds/starlily11
Summary: Lucette is so tired. She has been for some time. Waltz didn't realize how tired until now. But it's too late.
Relationships: Lucette Riella Britton/Waltz Cresswell
Series: Heart of Steel AU One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479797
Kudos: 23





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a “What If” for “The Cliffs.” What if Lucette had remained silent, and what if Genaro hadn’t followed her? Angst. Pure Angst. Do not read if you have mental health issues. This will almost definitely make it worse.

_Long before I learned to speak,_

_you took my voice in your hands and_

_claimed it as yours._

_Now, as I burn to ash,_

_I choose to take it back._

Somewhere high above, gulls screamed. Below, the gray sea crashed against the rocky cliffs. A cold wind stung the cheeks of anyone foolish enough to defy nature by being out of doors, and yet, in spite of everything, nature bloomed. Every tree, every flower opened petals to the sun, even hidden as it was by clouds. The wind tore through each bloom, sending myriad petals scattering throughout the kingdom. The air was filled with dozens upon dozens of heady scents, and the citizens of Angielle peered out of their windows, struck by awe and apprehension, even as the scent of roses, lilies, and every other flower swirled around them.

Above the town, on the cliffs with their rocky seashores, one figure remained unmoved by the spectacle. Persons of the magical persuasion would have noted that a wild, chaotic energy radiated from her. A particularly astute observer would have noted that this energy roiled through earth, water and sky alike and concluded that the cold wind and out-of-season blossoming of the plant life was the inevitable result. Tired golden eyes gazed unseeing at the waves below. Unbound, coppery hair streamed down her back and whipped around her in the wind. Her pale face was void of any emotion, but her sun-kissed eyes spoke of despair and a soul-deep exhaustion. A cloak of azure velvet and silk embroidered with lilies ebbed and flowed around her, but Lucette Riella Britton scarcely felt the cold or smelled the scent of a thousand flowers as she stepped closer to the edge of the cliff.

Myrtle and asphodel bloomed where her feet touched the ground, and she closed her eyes, willing the wild energy inside of her to channel into creation rather than the destruction it craved, and elsewhere in the kingdom, another grove of cherry trees burst into bloom, despite it being high summer instead of early spring. She took another step forward, and narcissus and forget-me-nots sprang up in her wake. The wind now howled throughout the kingdom, tearing blooms from their branches as fast as they bloomed, icy and sharp. It whirled around her, buffeting against her, and she stumbled backward before squaring her shoulders and leaning forward, forcing herself to take another step and another. Lucette opened her eyes, taking in the sharp gray rocks beneath her.

‘_What in the name of the gods are you doing?’_ part of her screamed. Another part replied, _‘Cleaning up Hildyr’s mess. This has gone on long enough.’_

Images of Waltz flashed before her in her mind’s eye. His brilliant smile as he played with the children in the square, the joy he took from his puppet shows. His voice as he called her “little star,” the sound of his laughter as they played together before Hildyr ruined everything…the sheer devastation in his eyes as Hildyr erased her memories of him. Well, she had tried, anyway. Nevertheless, Lucette had lost him, had spent four years mourning him only to find that he’d been cursed instead. Praise the gods, she’d been able to help him break it. As far as she was concerned, that was the only thing she’d done that was worthwhile.

Sea gulls screamed above her, their cries drilling into her ears. Still, compared to the cacophony of the minds and hearts of the people of Angielle below her, they might as well have been whispers. Thank goodness. She’d had quite enough noise in her life, thank you very much. For the first time in a long time, her thoughts were her own, free from the background noise of other people’s. A few times, she’d suspected that her version of Hell would be filled with people, all of their thoughts and emotions clamoring for her attention with no end in sight. It hadn’t helped that over half the people around her had either hated her because of the atrocities Hildyr had committed, and the others had mostly been concerned with keeping her from following in Hildyr’s footsteps.

“Only Waltz ever looked at me and saw me as my own person,” she mused aloud. “Well, him and Fritz.”

Dear Fritz. Even before this mess, her knight had always treated her as a person with feelings and needs like any other. He had stood guard over her so many times, never questioning her when she did something odd. He had denied her nothing, teaching her self-defense when she’d asked, even giving her a small dagger that she could tuck under her skirts. He had indulged her occasional desire to sneak outside of the palace in disguise, trailing along at a discreet distance where appropriate, even letting her enjoy moments of solitude when she asked. All he had ever asked of her in return was that when she sought solitude, she would tell him where she went in case of trouble. Eventually, he’d even come to accept that when she chose to wander alone, she would always return by sundown. He never questioned what she did in all those hours alone. Instead, he’d only flick his keen gaze over her, searching for injuries, and ask if she felt better. She would never stop being grateful to him for that.

Thoughts of Fritz led her to Varg. Part of her wanted to bring Alcaster back to life so she could kill him again for what he’d done to his son. This same part had been behind her kicking Myth in a certain sensitive area under the table a few days ago. While the witch had come to see the error of his ways after being freed from Hildyr’s influence, he still slipped, occasionally sighing over how much easier it had been to simply force people to do his bidding through magic than asking and accepting “no” as an answer. Her knight’s darker counterpart was quite the rogue, but he had the same respect for Lucette’s needs as Fritz. He’d been much more vocal about his displeasure, and had tailed her much more closely than Fritz had when she’d allowed it, but he had still indulged her, even teaching her a few new tricks for combat in close quarters.

_‘Do you really think anything good will come of this?’_ the voice from earlier asked. _‘You’re going to break Waltz’s heart, and do you really think Myth won’t go right back to his old ways?’_

Aloud, Lucette replied, “Everyone is better off this way. Hildyr’s poison ends with me. The seeds are there: I refuse to let them take root.”

Her father’s gaze from yesterday still haunted her. _“You really are your mother’s daughter…”_

“No, I am not.” Hildyr had tried to mold her in her own image, but Lucette had never been known for being malleable. Medea’s poison may have claimed one Bearer, but it would not claim another. Lucette would not let it. _‘Hecate, Lady of shadows and crossroads, help me now,’_ she prayed. _‘Guide my steps. Light my way with your torches, and open the door to freedom before me.’_

The wild energy thrummed inside her at the mention of the three-faced goddess, and yet the savagery Medea had so carefully cultivated waned for a moment. The wind’s howl softened to a keening cry, and the waves stilled. The sun peeked through the clouds for the briefest of moments, and the water shimmered. The Crown Princess of Angielle, the daughter of the witch Hildyr and Genaro Britton III, took one deep breath. In. Out. Lucette took one more step forward. She kept her eyes on the water below her. One step more and she would die. One step more, and the tainted energy she had taken from her mother would die with her. Angielle would be safe. Her father would be able to focus entirely on the woman he loved, and never again be forced to lay eyes on the reminder of what Hildyr had done to him and his kingdom.

The waves hurled themselves against the cliffs. The wind roared through the kingdom, scattering flower petals to every corner of Angielle even as rain began to pour from the sky in torrents. Lucette jumped.

¥Ω¥

The pain came out of nowhere. One minute, he was fine. The next, he was on his knees, gasping for air as power poured into him, as the memory of water flooding his lungs and his bones shattering against rocks roared throughout his body. A name flashed through his mind, and even through the terrible pain, he still stumbled to his feet with that name on his lips. “LUCETTE!”

No. No, no, _no_! She wouldn’t, she’d promised him. Suddenly, Delora was in front of him, gripping his shoulders. Where had she come from? Her face had drained of color, and her eyes held a terrible grief. “I need to find her,” he croaked. Everyone present knew exactly the “her” he was referring to.

Delora’s face crumbled. “Waltz, she’s gone.”

He shook his head. “No. She wouldn’t.” Sparks danced at his fingertips as the fresh grief flooded the Tenebrarum and sent yet more power flowing through him. Outside, the rain, which had stopped, suddenly began pouring down even harder.

A hand squeezed his shoulder, and he glanced over to see Myth. The formerly corrupted witch’s eyes held sympathy and the same grief that Delora’s held. “She did,” his rival said quietly.

A low, wounded noise echoed through the room, and distantly, Waltz realized that it came from him. “Why?” His voice sounded terrible even to him, raw with grief, turned jagged by sorrow. Myth looked away, and when he turned back to Delora, she turned her eyes downward and kept silent. Waltz looked all around the room, taking in the sight of Parfait weeping, of Jurien and Garlan’s downcast eyes as they did what they could to restore order in this area of the palace. Varg stood in the shadows, face void of emotion. Karma stood shell-shocked nearby, seemingly unaware of Rumpel’s efforts to dress the wound on his arm.

“Why?” he asked again. He wanted to ask why Lucette wasn’t here with the rest of them, why she was dead, why none of them had noticed that she was missing before now.

Her voice soft, Delora answered, “We don’t know. All we know is that she apparently killed Hildyr. No one in the palace saw her after that or knows where she went.”

Waltz let out a quiet groan and backed up to the wall, sinking against it. He brought his hands to his face and tried to think. Lucette had always wandered to the cliffs at Greywatch at least once a month. She had never failed to return, even before she finally trusted him enough to tell him where she was going. She had been distant for her entire time at the Marchen, rarely letting her guard down. Oh, he had cherished those moments when she would slip and crack a smile. She had spent most of her nights training with Karma and the knights, and when she would let her inner fire peek through her icy façade…well, he had to admit that even with Hildyr’s influence still clinging to her, his little star had become a magnificent woman.

There was no question that she had a tendency to keep herself distant, but even Delora had noted that her behavior did not quite match up to the stories that came from the palace. She had apologized to Annice with little prompting, and even sounded like she meant it. She had swept the floors day after day with little reaction except to say that it was only fair that she should earn her keep, and if it wasn’t too much to ask, might she have a day off every now and again to collect her thoughts? Delora had spent a large portion of time being surprised by the behavior of the so-called Ice Princess, but that day, she had borne a remarkable resemblance to a gaping fish. Even the memory of that first day could not bring a smile to his lips now.

What on earth had he missed? To all intents and purposes, Lucette had shown almost no potential to become a second coming of Hildyr. The most anyone could say was that she was distant, scarcely seeming to notice anyone or anything…wait. Waltz rifled through his memories, and horror flooded through him as they revealed the truth: aside from rare moments, Lucette had scarcely seemed to care about anything at all. She had always been wrapped in her own thoughts, only coming out when the situation seemed particularly dire. All this time, she had simply been going through the motions, doing what she deemed to be expected of her. Looking back, even on her coldest days, it seemed more like she was playing a tiresome role than anything else. The only times she’d seemed to come out of that was…was when she was with him. And like a fool, he’d been completely blind to what was happening right in front of him.

“Waltz?” Delora’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?” he asked absently.

“You’re the Tenebrarum Bearer, Cresswell,” Myth replied. “The future of the witches rests in your hands now.”

“What do you mean?”

Everyone turned to face King Genaro III. At his side were Ophelia, Rod, and Emelaigne. The king’s face was filled with apprehension. When no one answered, the king repeated himself. “What do you mean, Waltz is the new Tenebrarum Bearer? Hildyr is gone, and Lucette is of age…” he trailed off, and looked around the room. “Where is Lucette?” he asked. When no one answered, he raised his voice slightly. “Where is my daughter?”

“Lucette is gone.” The answer came from Waltz. He stood, tucking his hands in his pockets. The king took in the witch’s face. It was a mask of devastation, and his voice was flat, carefully contained. “Dead by her own hand.”

The king reeled back as if from a physical assault. “No,” he said hoarsely.

“Do you know why Hildyr went mad and turned to corruption, Your Majesty? The Tenebrarum connects the Bearer to all witches. When a witch dies, the Bearer feels it. They know if it was a peaceful, natural death or a violent end. When Lucette died, I felt the manner of her death and the emotions she felt.” Here, Waltz’s voice broke. “She was so tired, so ready for it to end.”

Genaro Britton’s face drained of color, and he passed a hand over his face, looking older than he had moments ago. Emelaigne started to sob quietly, and Rod’s face went blank with shock. Ophelia’s eyes filled with tears, and she placed a hand on the king’s shoulder.

“How?” he asked.

Waltz closed his eyes and remained silent for so long that it seemed as if Genaro, king of Angielle or no, would not receive an answer anytime soon. Finally, so quietly that he could scarcely be heard, the witch replied, “She jumped off the cliffs at Greywatch.”

“My gods,” Karma murmured.

“Why?” Genaro’s voice was filled with desperation, seeking an answer that could never be truly answerable.

“I don’t know.” But one thing was certain. Waltz would never be content to let this matter lie. Even if it took years, he would find an answer. Lucette had fought her mother’s influence for so long, and had kept her silence for years. He owed it to his little star to find out what had driven her to commit the ultimate act against her own life. She would never have done this without reason. Knowing this was all that kept him standing right now. He looked Genaro in the eyes. “But I’m going to find out.”

From the shadows, Varg spoke. His voice was filled with hesitation, as if he was reluctant to share this information. “When Fritz was guarding her, he often saw her writing in a journal.”

Waltz whirled around to face him. “Where did she keep it?”

Varg took his time responding, and when he responded, it was like something was forcing the answer out of him. Waltz shot Myth a look, but the other witch seemed more confused now than anything else.

The black-haired rogue said, “Fritz never saw that. Some days, she had it with her. Other days, she didn’t. But if I had to guess, I imagine she hid it somewhere in her room. Then again, she had hiding places for things everywhere. Still, for something that important to her, she would have wanted to keep it as close to her as possible. She may have liked to wander at times, but she still mostly preferred her room or the gardens.”

Waltz turned to Genaro, silently asking his permission to search Lucette’s belongings. Genaro nodded, beyond words.


End file.
